My Music
by hiei1317
Summary: Hi again! I'm back with my latest slash story. I hope you all like it! Really I would like to say it is RaoulErik, for anyone uncomfortable with that. Also the title has nothing really to do with the story, except the ending a little. Disclaimer: I d
1. The Start

Untitled Erik/Raoul ff

A/n: Erik goes to try and visit Christine's grave privately but runs into somebody he did not expect. Based on movie, except for Philippe being mentioned since he isn't in the new movie. SLASH!

ERIK POV 

I walk solemnly in the shadows, watching for any movement about me. My footsteps are completely silent as I stalk through the graveyard.

It seems almost silly that the last time I was here was the time that Christine came here for her father's grave. Today I will be visiting hers.

She died last week and her burial was today. I waited until everyone was sure to be gone before I came.

My stomach is in knots as I approach the grave, but I stop short, angered.

There is someone there already, and I know just who it is. The viscount, Raoul.

A feral growl escapes my throat before I can stop it and the viscount turns.

Confused, he calls out, "Who's there?"

My game is over; I step into the light.

"Come to mock me monsieur?" he seems to ignore the rose that I hold at my side.

"I have some to pay my respects," my voice is even, as if it were masked like my face.

He laughs, "You're prayers are not welcome here!"

I draw my sword, "Do not mock me, boy… I've already had enough of that in my life." Quickly striding past him I place the rose on the grave, it's black ribbon moving slightly in the breeze and then I turn to leave.

His voice stops me, "I'm sorry."

I turn, "Pardon, monsieur?"

"I said 'I'm sorry'," he responds, lowering his arms and eyes, "I haven't been myself this past week. I wasn't even going to be at the burial, but I owed her that much."

"You were her husband, monsieur, of course you owed her…" I start.

"We never married," he laughs lightly, "my brother would have killed me if I had even tried."

I look to the ground, "My apologies, monsieur."

"Please, call me Raoul," we both look up and our gazes meet.

"Alright. Goodbye Raoul," I turn to leave again.

He stops me again; "I never got your name."

"I never offered it," I don't even turn to him.

"Please, tell me your name, it's the least you can do," he pleads.

I turn, "Perhaps, Raoul, there is a possibility that I have no name to offer, hmm?"

He shakes his head; "Surely your mother gave you a name!"

"Ha! My mother despised me, she couldn't be near me long enough to give me a name!" he frowns at my words.

"No one ever named you?" he tries one last time.

I think, and answer in a low voice; "Madame Giry used to call me 'Erik'." The name has long since past outs of usage, now she simply calls me monsieur, but I still remember it from when we were younger.

"Erik," he mimics, "I like that name."

I turn without another word. To my surprise it's his hand that catches me this time.

I turn to protest, but before I can speak he catches my lips in a kiss. The kiss is light and fast, but my lips tingle where his touched. I never have felt this way before, not even around Christine.

"Monsieur? Raoul…" my voice is broken and barely audible.

"Shh," he presses his finger to my lips, "There is nothing separating us now. Christine is gone, the division is gone."

I move my face so his fingers no longer rest on my lips, "That does not change things between us, Raoul."

"It changes everything, Erik," he smiles, "and to be honest I have always felt something for you."

"Hate?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Love," he answers. My face loses its expression, lost in a haze.

Before I can speak again his lips are upon mine. A moan escapes from deep in my throat, as the kiss grows longer and deeper.

He slides a hand around the back of my neck, pulling my lips closer to him. I let my tongue slip out of my mouth, instinct taking over. My tongue lightly traces his lips and I feel him open his mouth, allowing my tongue entry. My tongue searches hungrily in his mouth, tasting every inch of him, silently dueling his tongue, gently, and then gaining strength, almost a brutal strength.

We both pull back, gasping for air. I move one hand to his hair and lightly run my gloved fingers through it. I quickly pull my hand away from his hair, swiftly discarding the glove, forgotten on the ground, removing the other with the same carelessness. I now run my naked fingers through his hair, feeling the perfection. The color is that of honey, and to the touch it is as fine as silk.

There are no words needed, for the feeling is mutual, this is what is best for us both.

He follows me in silence, back to the horse that I traveled here with, bareback as I remember Raoul did the last time I met him here. We both climb on.

"Will you be missed?" I turn to look over my shoulder at him, the masked half of my face pointing towards him.

"I walked here alone, and then I told them I was going to visit the Opera House any ways. Philippe will not expect me home until tomorrow, he knows me too well," Raoul laughs, the laugh of an angel.

"What were you going to do at my house, dare I ask?" I raise an eyebrow, though the gesture to him is invisible.

"Mourn," he looks away from me and I kick the horse, starting our fast ride back to the Opera Populaire.

Fast does not even do it justice, the ride is quicker than any ride I've ever taken, or it seems too short. The ride was pleasurable, Raoul's arms tightly wrapped around my waist, his hot breath spreading across my neck, his waist grinding into my lower back…

We arrive to the stables where we dismount, unnoticed. I lead him through one of my back passageways, back down to the place that I call home.

We arrive there and I realize that Raoul is not the only one changed by Christine's death. The place seems like a tornado tore away at it.

"I apologize, the place is a wreck," I gesture to the mess.

"It's alright," he moves up behind me, kissing the nape of my neck.

I spin around and take him in my arms, nibbling on one of his earlobes. A moan escapes his lips and I trail my kisses leading eventually to his lips, where I take his breath away, and he does the same to me.

My hand finds it's way to his hair, my other hand resting on his back. When they both settle comfortably I pull Raoul tighter to my body, his hips brushing mine, his arousal very noticeable.

He pulls back a little, "I'm sorry."

I pull him back to me, my own arousal causing a burning sensation between my legs, "Don't be."

I lead him back to Christine's room, now stripped of all but its bed, my models and everything in a forgotten room, the memory of her too hard to bear.

I lay him on the bed; his back pressed down hard as my hands roam up his stomach. His muscles quiver under my hands, and I feel myself more aroused.

He pulls my head down to his, his lips meeting mine as my hands go to work removing his shirt. Once I completely unbutton all layers he leans up, shrugging the clothes off and discarding them randomly. I look at him and I am shocked to see how perfect his skin is, his muscles all perfectly molded to his body.

He moves to remove my shirt and I flinch, but give in to his touch. I pray he didn't notice the flinch. If he did he doesn't show it.

Shrugging off my own shirt he gasps. My own torso is covered with scars from the whips of the gypsies. I turn away, tears in my eyes. He moves his hand along the scars, nearly causing my tears to fall. His hand moves to my face, to make my eyes meet his, and I see his eyes are tear-filled as well. One strays from his eye and I kiss it away.

He gives a slight smile and I continue the removal of clothes, his body arching into mine as I accidentally brush over his arousal. I kiss his lips as I discard his pants and lead his hands in removing my own. Once we are both bare, except my mask his hand moves to lie on top of it. He slowly peels it away and I close my eyes, waiting for the onslaught of insults.

Instead I feel fingers lightly trace over the marred and discolored skin. His touch is like a whisper of wind, and his lips slowly replace his fingers, a little more rough, but just as pleasurable.

"Pauvre vieux," he whispers. (a/n: pauvre vieux means "you poor thing")

I kiss his lips to silence him.

I slowly roll him onto his stomach. Reaching to the nightstand I grab some hand lotion.

He looks at me questioningly.

"I don't want to hurt you," I respond. He moves over to me, applying the lotion to my burning skin, not realizing how much closer he brings me to climax with each move he makes.

Completely ready he flips onto his stomach, no fear of what we are about to do.

I have no fear either.

I whisper in his ear, "Ready?"

He can't even respond verbally, but nods, awaiting my touch.

So I do not deny him. My first thrust is rough, more rough than I meant it to be and I pause, holding Raoul's shaking form to my body, not moving with in him at all.

"I'm sorry," I wipe away a stray tear.

"Why?" he smirks.

I can't take staying still so I start my rhythm, slowly thrusting at first, than moving to a fast pace, quicker, but smooth none the less.

Climaxing I feel our bodies come at once. We cry out each other's names and then slowly settle down, my arm wrapped around his waist. The sheets where his groin had been are quite in need of a wash, but I ignore the fact, wanting to bask in the moment.

"Erik?" my angel speaks.

"Yes, Raoul?" I whisper.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" he question almost hurts me.

"Of course, I wouldn't leave in the middle of the n-"

"I don't just mean tomorrow, I mean every morning," he interrupts.

I sigh, "Of course, Raoul."

"Promise?" he turns slightly, his eyelids heavy with sleep.

"Promise," he smiles and turns back over, falling asleep almost instantly.

I smile, slowly falling asleep as well.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

**a/n: well? I got some more chapters already typed,but I would like SOME feedback before I update. please? it's greatly appreciated!**


	2. Dreams

a/n: Thank you:

wolfegurl006: I know you love this story! thanks none the less!

inkie pinkie: um... i think this was based about a year or two. I went with an earlier date of Christine's death, so I think it's been about a year. You can yell at me if in the story you find that I'm lying to you now:) thank you so much!

Lil-Hikki: I realize it was rushed, but it does slow down, don't worry. The whole thing should slow down a bit in this chapter. Thanks!

Samyo: as always, thank you so much for the support. and you will love the movie!

* * *

I wake up to the pleasant sensation of fingers running softly through my hair.

Opening my eyes I see Raoul, his head on my chest, face tilted upwards to look at me, a light smile playing across his lips.

"Good morning," he laughs a little and kisses me.

"What's so funny?" his smile grows.

"You moan a lot when you wake up," he turns over and dances his fingers lightly across my chest.

"I guess I don't usually have to worry about people hearing me," I shrug.

He moves closer to me, curling against my body like a cat, "They say that people who moan when they wake up have been dreaming. What do you dream about?"

"You first," I'm reluctant to admit such horrors to the boy, he is too innocent.

He look up, "Well, last night I dreamt about you. Most of the time it's about home though, like dreams of my childhood with my brother, Philippe. Now you."

I frown. His warmth comforts me though, a pleasant change from the cold that I'm used to. I sigh and bury my face is his soft hair before replying, "My childhood as well. I dream less pleasant things though. The look of horror upon my mother's face, the whip that the Gypsies used while I was in their cage, and especially the look of horror and the sound of laughter that resonated through the tent as the man took the bag off my face, showing the world my face, and leaving me no where to hide."

I feel a tear slowly run down my cheek. I hadn't realized I was crying.

I wrap my arms around his chest and stomach, pulling him closer to me, kissing the back of his head. His arms move to cover mine, his thumbs gently massaging the skin on which they rest.

"I'm sorry," his voice is choked by a sob.

"Don't be," I whisper.

We lay in a comfortable silence for many minutes, laying in the others arms.

His eyes start to flutter closed again, but shoot back open.

"What time is it?" the words are so fast they blend together.

I look to the clock on the far wall, "Ten to nine."

"Damn it!" he continues to swear as he jumps out of my arms, sitting up.

"What?" I laugh lightly, sitting up as well.

"My brother was to be here for a meeting at nine o'clock! He'll except me to be there as well!" in his panic he finds himself on the ground, half way across the room, trying to distinguish the ruined clothing from the still good ones.

I get up and gradually assist him in his frantic search. We find that only the shirts are in ruins.

I move to a drawer and pull out an extra shirt, "Here."

I extend the shirt but he shakes his head, "I couldn't."

"Take it," I insist, "before your brother really does suspect something."

He looks at the clock: 8:58.

"Where do you need to be?" I ask calmly.

His answer is barely audible, "Christine's room."

I nod, sighing, "Follow me."

I lead him up one of my many passages, the fastest path of the two that lead to Christine's room. We reach the mirror within a minute, and I look through confirming the room is empty before opening the mirror.

He steps through and I take one step out.

I make sure he's alright before turning to leave, only to be stopped by his voice, "I'll be done in an hour, two at the most. Please, meet me somewhere, you can choose the place."

I think and the safest place comes to mind, "Box five."

He smiles and I place a gloved hand on his cheek, which he leans in to.

"I better go," I whisper, turning from him and closing the mirror before he can protest.

Before another word can be said I am half way down the tunnel.

_I'll be done in an hour, two at the most._

His voice remains in my thoughts. What can I do for an hour?

I close my eyes and see his face, bright as sunlight and perfect as darkness. I find myself inspired by the beauty and I look up, already back in my home. I move toward the organ bench, move my one piece, and place fresh paper in its place.

My fingers take over from there, producing notes correctly, faltering slightly, and fixing the mistake, then writing all of it down before it is forgotten.

I stop after a short while and look back to the clock. Ten minutes left.

* * *

a/n: please review! this chapter was a little long, so i chopped it to leave with a bit of a cliff hanger ot the next part, hope you don't mind. 


	3. Lullaby

a/n: the truly second part of the chapter, but I made it a new chapter. Thanks to:

wolfegurl006 - glad to please with a cliffy

LilHikki - you're welcome. and I'm sorry to say it, but you must be patient. I'm pretty sure you'll think it's worth the wait!

Samyo - Thank you!

inkie pinkie - yep, a year. And i see what you mean about the old guy thing... lol. I'm so glad you like my writing! Thanks so much!

Two-Bit Wannabe - Christine died of illness, I regret to say. Though it did leave room for other couples I'm so honored to hear this is the first slash you've read. I have written others if you are interested! Thank you so much!

and now, to chapter 3!

* * *

I take the fastest path to Box Five and just as I burst through the door a hesitant knock can be heard.

I move to sit in my chair, the one closest to the passageway, "It's unlocked."

Raoul steps through the door and quickly closes it, "Sorry."

As he sits I turn to him, "Why?"

"I feel guilty," he looks down at his feet, his hair taking the place of his eyes, "for leaving you alone down there again."

A smile, the softest expression that has crossed my face in far too long a time, "I'm alright. It's okay. I knew you were going to be back, and I'm used to the emptiness down there."

He continues looking down, so I place my hand firmly under his chin, my thumb wrapping around the front, and I lift his face, but his eyes remain on his shoes.

"Raoul, look at me," I gently prod.

He does and his shining beauty is surrounding sad eyes.

My thumb moves to his cheek, gently moving against his jaw line, "There are some things that people can not help, and you having to meet your brother for a meeting is one of them. I will never get in the way of your family business, I promise you that."

"It still wasn't fair to you," his voice is still stern, but his face has brightened once more.

"Life has never been fair to me, but I take the punches as their thrown," I lean in a place a light kiss on his forehead.

Just then there is commotion down below. Raoul and I turn from each other to pear over the edge of the box.

I see Carlotta storming out onto the stage, her face red with furry.

"It was him again, I know it! That stupid Opera Ghost!" she screams in her already high pitched voice.

"Now Carlotta," Monsieur Andre runs in, followed by Monsieur Firmin, "We have no proof that it was him!"

"Do not try to tell me that it was not the Opera Ghost!" she turns on them, "It is always him, always him playing these tricks on me."

I move to jump up in my seat, but I feel Raoul's hand rest on top of mine, squeezing mine gently, bringing me back to reality.

"Please, Signora," Madame Giry now has joined them, "do not speak that way in the Ghost's presence. Especially without enough proof that is was he who has done this."

"Proof? What proof does a ghost leave? Invisible footprints?" I lose my control and jump up to yell after her, but Raoul jumps up as well, covering my mouth and pulling me back down into his chair, keeping me firmly in his lap.

I turn to him, "Why are you stopping me?"

I struggle but he keeps a firm grip, "Because, I don't want you to get caught."

I stop my struggle, "Why do you care?"

"Why wouldn't I care?" a question answered with a question.

"No one else would care," I stand up, back straight, against the wall so no one except Raoul can see me.

"I'm not like them," he insists.

"What makes you so special?" I growl.

His answer is so simple it tears at my heart, "I love you, Erik."

His words have no response, and even if I could think of a response my throat and mouth are too dry to speak. I feel a terrible twinge in my heart, a pang of guilt. How could I be so cruel?

"I love you," he whispers again.

I search my mind for an answer, but my heart speaks instead, "I love you too."

Without time to think Raoul pulls me back into his lap, and catches my lips.

I move my lips over his, feeling the soft texture of his perfection. My tongue slips between my teeth and onto his lips, begging him for entry. To my delight his mouth opens, anxious for my tongue again. A deep moan forms in his throat, and I move my hand to choke it, making it softer to keep others from hearing it. He hesitates a moment when I do this, then realizes why I have done it and he leans further in to the kiss. My tongue is in heaven, the sweet taste of my love surrounding it. Finally my lips move, slowly at first down his jaw line, until they are impatient and hungrily move to his neck.

Here I start to kiss harder, a bruising kiss, a love bite. Letting my teeth scrape across his skin I do not even think of the consequences of his moan, for I too let out one. His skin tastes as good as his mouth did, and I can not help but let primal instinct take over.

But I am stopped short by a hand on my chest, pushing me lightly away from him.

I lift my head, a hurt look on my face. He leans to my ear and whispers; "Someone is coming."

I hold still and sure enough there are footsteps closing in from outside the door, headed right for us.

"Come with me," I take his hand and open the passage, my lust for him still burning hot.

We slip through into the cool passageway just as the footsteps stop outside the door. I close the passage just as the door opens.

"Monsieur, it is me," Madame Giry, "and I know you can hear me."

I motion for Raoul to stay behind, but he shakes his head. I sigh, but I open the door any ways.

Madame Giry is standing right by the entrance, annoyance and curiosity written across her face.

"Well, Madame, here I am, what do you want?" I stay in the doorway so she can't see Raoul.

"Erik, was it you who stole Carlotta's hand mirror? Not like I need to ask, but I need to hear it from you," she adds quickly.

"Like I would want another mirror, I don't want the ones down there already!" I keep my voice semi low.

"Just as I thought. You don't need to be quiet, the others are gone," I nod.

"If that is all-" I start.

"That isn't all, Erik. I heard someone else up here with you," she looks at me like a mother looks at a guilty child.

Raoul finally pushes by me, "That was me, Madame."

She looks up at him in surprise, "Monsieur Vicomte!"

"Yes, Madame," he nods, "How are you?"

"Just fine, and you?" her shock has still not left her voice.

"Never better," he smiles.

"May I ask why you have stayed when the Comte has left? And also why you were hiding?" she still hasn't caught on.

"They can both be answered at the same time: Erik," he puts simply.

She does not seem able to absorb what he is telling her, but she lets it sink in and catches on, "My congratulations to you both. Now, I must get back and find that mirror before our diva looses her voice screaming."

"Thank you for your blessings, Madame," Raoul bows slightly to her.

She nods to him and leaves.

"Raoul, why tell her? She could tell your brother so easily!" I take his shoulders, "Have you gone mad?"

"Mad?" he laughs, "If madness is love then I have become deeply mad, but other than that I know what I am doing. I know I can trust her. She is the one who told me about when you were… oops."

I scowl, "Told you what about me?"

"She told me about, well, the gypsies," he frowns, a sad glint in his eyes.

I growl, "That woman! It was not her place!" Then I look back at Raoul, and he is cowering. I gain control of my voice, softening my expression, "Oh, Raoul."

I place a hand behind his neck, and pull him to me. He wraps his arms around me in a tight embrace, "It's okay now, Raoul, I'm okay now."

He shakes his head; "No one should ever be treated that way."

"You have seen my face, but apparently you were not thinking straight, for no man could say that after seeing my face," my voice remains soft, but I choke on the words.

"I can," he whispers into my shoulder.

A tear slides down my cheek, under my mask. I feel it move back and forth over my deformed features. A hand, Raoul's hand, slides up between us, resting on my quivering chest.

"Don't cry, please," my shirt starts to soak slightly where his head rests, it's soaking with his tears, "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"Raoul, these are not tears of sadness," I comfort him. "The words that you have spoken to me today alone have been the kindest things mankind has ever bothered telling me."

"You poor thing," the words are barely audible, as if he did not mean to utter them at all.

"Come, we must go," I gently take his hands in mine and I lead him back to the entrance to my home.

There is silence the entire trip, but not uncomfortable silence, just silence. I enjoy this sort of silence; it's the type of silence that you can only find in the dead of night. No sounds of our footfall, our breath not audible, just the constant presence of another and complete silence. It's times like these that I do not mind my disfigured face, for I would never know the peace in these moments without it.

And then silence is broken, and my Hellish life resumes. We have come back to the lake, and there is now the sound of the water lapping against the shore. I turn back to see Raoul, his face not smiling nor frowning. The shine never leaves his face, the innocent shine that made me fall head over heals for this man. My love, my Raoul.

He sees me looking at him and smiles another grand smile in my direction. How I long to take him in my arms and take him back to the bed, to feel the great sensation of me in him and of waking up next to him again and again, in a never ending cycle. I have come to accept that this is not possible, but I still long for it.

I wonder if he feels the same way. I am the Opera Ghost, and why should this well-known viscount stay here with me? If he wished he could have any and every girl he desired. And yet he stays here, by my side, loving me.

We have crossed the ledge and Raoul has taken a seat on the organ bench.

My stomach grumbles in hunger and he tries to hide a smile.

I glare at him and he holds his hands up, showing he means no harm, "I'm hungry too."

I nod, and move to my make shift kitchen. I pull out some fruit from an icebox that is cooled by a small pool of water that seems always to be chilled.

Along with this I take out some bread and jam, placing it all on a platter.

"What would you like to drink? I have water, wine, and a little bit of fruit juice," I call out.

"Water is fine," he answers.

I grab water for him, and wine for myself. Though I do not drink to get drunk I do drink a lot.

I bring out the small tray and place it at the dining table, "I apologize, I know this is not a meal it for the Vicomte de Chagny."

He shakes his head; "It looks great."

He picks up and apple from the two that I brought out and examines it closely before taking a bite. After swallowing he smiles, "This is much better than what I'm used to now. I'm usually eating dinner for breakfast, between the meetings and my brothers love for fine dining I haven't eaten a real breakfast since I was a boy."

I let a small smile cross my lips, not sure if that is something really to smile at; "I'll take that as a compliment."

He laughs, "You should."

I sit down, pouring myself a small glass of wine.

"You don't strike me as a heavy drinker," he comments, over another bite of apple.

I shake my head, "Not heavy, I've only gotten drunk once, but this," I motion to the wine, "is the only thing I drink down here."

He nods, as if understanding me, but I know he doesn't, so I try to clarify, "After so many years away from any real food or drink this is like that little bit of class in life that I missed out on. Also, if I can't live up there, and I certainly can't just walk on up there. And I can't cool things properly down here. So why not just take this, the only thing that can literally last for years?"

He nods, now in real understanding.

Finishing his apple and sipping at his water he gestures, "Where do you throw your trash?"

I stand and take the apple rind from him, "I'll get it."

"Well, so I know," I nod and lead him back into the makeshift kitchen. There are two large bins and I throw the rind carelessly into the smaller one.

"I usually don't need the other one, but if I start to compose and cause a large back up of trash then I'll just take them both up with me one night and pitch it all," I shrug.

He lowers his head; "I wouldn't know what that's like. My brother and I don't have to worry about it."

I walk past him, back to the table, pouring myself more wine, "Are you sure you don't want any?"

He shakes his head, "Thanks any ways."

I nod and down the glass in a single gulp. I pour myself some more and sit on the organ bench.

Forgetting everything else I quickly pick up where I left off. My fingers don't need a reminder where I last left off; the notes are still buzzing through my head. But more have joined them, and that means that it's time to compose, busy or not. I start playing furiously, my hair instantly becoming a mess as I pound down on the keys, but the melody is not angry, it's a melody that sends the should flying as high and far, no, further, then the notes themselves.

I don't even realize that Raoul has sat down next to me before he leans his head down on my shoulder, his arms wrapping around my waist. He is not in my way, so I keep playing, as if he had never showed up. This could go on for hours, it all seems to fall away, the pain, the light, the sorrow of the real life, when I can sit here and play. Once I play it I memorize it, so I don't worry about writing it down, I'll remember later, no question.

I can tell Raoul is relaxing, more and more of his weight is leaning into my shoulder, becoming more a hinder to my music. I stop, and he snaps back to attention.

He quickly jumps up, but his hands do not move, "My apologies, I should have known I was stopping you," his arms now move as well.

"Here," I take his hands and place them back around my waist, and I move his head to rest in the crook of my neck, so that it won't stop my music.

He nuzzles into my neck and then settles in, and I start to play once more. This time there is no hinder, even as he falls asleep. I did not mean for my music to be a lullaby, but as the music mellows into a sad love tune he drifts into a light sleep. I don't think he even realizes that he is the inspiration of this peace. Between the happiness of my heart at the beginning, the greatness of that night we spent together, and finally the smoothness of his features. The music starts to lull me as well and I wonder how truly long it has been since I started. It was morning. I look to the clock and it reads twelve. I look to the other side of the lake and see that it is dark. It might not have been the music that has sent my poor Vicomte into his deep sleep. I move one hand from the smooth keys to lightly run through Raoul's honey brown hair. I keep the hand there, even as he starts to stir. It takes him a long while to come to.

"I swear I was awake," he mumbles as he lifts his head.

"Shh," I whisper, lightly stroking his forehead, his eyes closing again.

I stay like this, his head not moving from my shoulder.

I barely make out his next words, "What time is it?"

"A little after midnight now," I answer softly.

He yawns, "You really can go a long time without stopping. If I weren't here I'm sure you'd still be composing."

I laugh lightly, "Probably."

"I'm sorry," he lifts his head completely.

"No, it's alright," I whisper, moving my other hand to cradle his cheek.

He finally looses his battle with sleep again, and passes out, nearly falling off the bench, but I grab him and hold onto his shivering frame. I never realize how cold it is down here until someone else comes down here. I lift his body, holding it close to me in a futile attempt to keep him warm. I lay him on the swan bed and loosen his tie, removing his shoes. I wrap an extra cloak around him before finally tucking him into the bed. I then wrap my cloak tighter around me and lie down next to him, going under the covers myself. Wrapping my arm around him, he curls into my body like a cat, searching for warmth. His breath spreads over my hand, which is on his chest. The warmth of his breath is pleasant, and the steady rhythm of his beating heart slowly puts me to sleep.

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**a/n: please take a moment and review! Very appreciated!**


	4. Bath Time

a/n: Thanks for being so patient, and I appologize that it took so long, the past 3 days I could not log in, hence not being able to update! Love y'all for being so patient with me!

inkie pinkie: lol, thank you very much!

mrs.butler: no, i am sorry to dissapoint some people in saying this, but I am straight and I am a female. I am not offended by the question, but I would like to make the facts clear. I am sorry for any confusion.

LilHikki: your welcome for the update, here's another! and thank you for your kindness and reviews!

* * *

RAOUL POV

This time I wake up later then Erik, and find that I am alone. I search the room with my eyes and see no visible evidence of him.

Think.

There was the music, the sweet sound that first made me fall asleep.

Then what?

Waking up and finding it to be after midnight, a long night for the Phantom.

Then?

I woke up here.

Where could Erik be?

I stand up to find that his cloak, a thick comfortable material, very warm, surrounds me. I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent that is uniquely Erik. It's sweet, but not over sweet, just right, perfect. He really doesn't realize how perfect he is; he just focuses on that half a face. The poor man shouldn't be so hard on himself, but I have no room to talk: I'm always trying too hard for my brother. That's why I love Erik, because he doesn't expect anymore from me then that which I can give.

I look around the corner and see dim light coming from in the washroom.

I knock on the door.

ERIK POV

I look toward the door as a knock fills the room. I replace the cover over the mirror that I had been looking into and grab my mask, placing it carefully over my marred features before opening the door a crack. I look out to see a puzzled Raoul. Keeping my naked body completely behind the door, save my face, I smile, "Good morning, Raoul."

"I'm sorry," he blushes, turning away.

I close the door, grabbing a towel, wrapping it around my waist and then reopening the door.

"I should have known it was you," he is still blushing, it just reddens.

"It's fine," I smile.

He looks up at my face, "Were you showering or something?"

"Just washing up," I shrug, "the only water to wash in is the lake. Would you like something?"

He shakes his head; "I just couldn't find you."

"I wouldn't leave you like that, Raoul, not without a note at the least," I step out into the hall.

He looks at me in surprise, "Aren't you freezing out here?"

"I'm used to it," I wave off his comment.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything?" I gesture back into the washroom, "Soap, shampoo, a towel?"

"Are you implying something?" he steps back in mock offense.

I laugh, "Never Raoul."

"Really Erik? Because you know you can just tell me I stink," he laughs as well.

"You could never smell bad to me," I joke.

"I'm afraid that even if you were my twin the smell would get to you," his laughter ends, but the smile never fades.

"So, do you want anything? I promise I won't come out," I gesture back into the washroom again.

"Please," I go back in and he follows me, taking a wash cloth, a towel, some soap, and a small bottle of shampoo.

"Do you mind?" he asks.

"No," I respond.

He leaves again, heading for the lake and I close the door behind him. I shed the towel again and shed my mask along with it. I turn back to the mirror.

Uncloaking the mirror I run my fingers along the marred, red features. A tear nearly escapes my eye, seemingly extra white from the pulled back and red skin surrounding it. I wipe it away in anger. I will not cry, not for myself, not again.

Just then I hear a cry from the lake, "Erik!"

Raoul!

I jump out of the room, forgetting everything, and reaching the lake I dive in.

I surface to see him with his back to me.

"What's wrong?" I yell.

"Nothing," he comments, turning around and I now see he is laughing his head off.

"Why did you call for me?" I'm still in panic.

He swims over, moving one arm over my chest from behind me and the other wrapping around from below, holding his hands together right over the middle of my chest, "I wanted you here with me."

I turn around angrily, "You called me for nothing?"

When I pull out of his arms he gives me a hurt look, "Erik?"

"You did all of this pointlessly! You child!" my words cause him to cower, like a beaten pup.

"Please, Erik, I'm sorry!" he tries, tearing rushing down his cheeks.

"No!" I yell.

"Please," he falls toward me.

Tears start to run down my cheeks now, both completely uncovered and letting my tears run free, "You child! You scared me for nothing!" My last few words come so choked back that they are barely audible.

He takes me in his arms, "I'm sorry, Erik, I'm so sorry."

His tears run down my bare back and in the lake my knees still seem so weighted down, collapsing to the ground and my tears start to run down his back in return.

His tears start to slow, "I didn't mean to scare you, I'm so sorry."

I shake my head, "I shouldn't have yelled at you. If anyone should apologize it should be me. I understand if you do not forgive me."

"Erik, oh God, I forgive you," my tears fall harder.

His hands roam my back, and I feel my tears end.

I lean back and look into his eyes, and instantly my soul takes flight. There is music within his soul that rivals mine, and it reflects itself in his eyes.

"It's alright now," he whispers, "No more tears from either of us."

I nod.

We kneel there, wet from the stomach down, his hair still dripping from him freshly washing it.

I move my hands slowly to his chest and he arches his body into my hands, eager for more than a slight touch. It seems that my lust for him is returned to me. I press my hands slightly harder into his skin, not enough to leave bruises, but enough to feel the quiver of muscle as my hands slide along.

"Erik," he mutters.

I moan at the mention of my name in such a lust filled voice.

I catch his lips in a searing kiss. The heat in my body is not even slightly cooled by the chilled water surrounding me. My hands move along his chest as my lips crush into his. My hungry tongue once again takes its place in his mouth. My hands become more daring sliding lower. Now I'm at the bottom of his chest, his waist now arching into my hands. I remove my mouth from his and nuzzle his neck before kissing him again. He moans, causing my own arousal to grow, as my hands near his, now resting on his stomach. I keep my hands hovering on his stomach for a moment, loving the feeling of longing in his body as he silently urges my hands lower. I comply, meeting first his thighs, down to his upper leg, and then the inside of his thigh. I move my hand slowly up onto his arousal and he arches into my hand, begging my hand to do more than just hover. But I move my hand away. He whimpers and I move my kisses from his neck to his collarbone. He buries his hands in my hair, pressing my face closer to him, crushing my nose into his skin and not caring. I don't care either.

"Raoul," I moan into his skin before gently nipping.

"More," he manages before losing his voice in gasps as my kisses move to his chest, and then to the level of the water on his body.

Then finding my need for release unbearable I straighten up and press our hips together. I feel his arousal dig into my hip and he slowly moves his hand to take my own. His hand, taking me into its grasp, starts to move steadily. The feeling sends my head spinning to the heavens, a light-headedness that is all too pleasant. My body arches into his hand, my hips moving with his rhythm. I feel myself let go, and I cry my lovers name to all those who will hear it.

His turn.

He is so close by the time that I'm finished that the slightest touch throws him closer. So my hand grasps him all at once, his body arching just in time for him to come. He simply cries out, as if this action were causing him extreme pain. I hope it is not.

He is exhausted when he finally catches his breath, and so am I. We both wash up a little before wading our ways to the shore and wrapping the towels around us. He starts to shiver uncontrollably and I grab the cloak that he had discarded earlier to wash and wrap it around his shoulders, holding him still in front of me. He leans back, his hands coming up to hold onto my arm that is around his neck.

We stand in silence and then move away, drying off and getting clothes back on.

Still exhausted we both head for the bed, where his arms circle around my waist possessively as we fall asleep.

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a/n: everyone say "aww".

Everyone: aww

Anyways... thanks for reading and sticking with me through all this! Please review!


	5. Fever

a/n: man, thank to all for reading! I can't believe that I've gotten this far! I'm going to be slowing down the updates for a little cause I've got exams this coming week, so sorry. But hey, think of it this way, summer is coming and I'll be writing a lot more:) So, hope you like!

Two-Bit Wannabe: Thank you so much! I'm glad you like:)

LilHikki: You're welcome! lol, I'm trying to cut down on crying... but in this story it's hard, my next one I promise less crying... I'll try my hardest:D

inkie pinkie: Thank you so much! I'm glad that I got you like my writing, I'm glad I got you hooked,and I thank you for being such a loyal reviewer.

RAOUL POV

_I toss and turn, trying to escape his grasp, but he doesn't let go._

_"I thought you loved me!" I yell._

_"Love you? I could never love you, you are a man and I am a man. To love you would be an insult to me. I could never love a man, especially you," tears are running down my face._

_"Please, Erik, I love you," I plead._

_He laughs, "What a pitiful attempt, viscount!"_

_The chains on my wrist chafe my skin painfully and wear away my wrists, causing them to bleed alarming amounts._

_"Please, help me!" I cry out._

_His laughter grows louder, "Help you? Why would _I _want to help _you_?" His voice is a growl._

_I cry harder and his laughter continues…_

… I wake up screaming, loudly.

"Raoul?" Erik is sitting beside me.

Backing away from him, I yell, "Stay away!"

His face looks hurt, but I turn and run any ways, anything to get away from him.

I dash on to the ledge to find the way locked.

Trying to turn, I loose my balance and fall in the lake.

Arms circle my chest and I feel Erik pull me up, "Raoul, whatever happened it was a dream, it was only a dream, and it's over now!"

"No, it couldn't have been a dream!" I cry out struggling in Erik's hold like moments before and hitting him in the chest. But he persists in holding onto me.

"It was," he whispers softly in my ear.

"But it felt so real," I give up the struggle, seeing that I will not win.

"It wasn't," his voice sounds so hurt. What have I done?

"I'm sorry, Erik," he has pulled us onto the shore.

"Shh, it's all over now," he gently rocks back and forth, holding me in his lap and whispering words of comfort.

After a moment like this he softly pushes me, "Tell me what you dreamt."

"I don't want to," I whisper like a child.

"I'll tell you, if you tell me," he insists.

I nod, "Fine." I sigh, "We were back in the lake. You were chaining me up again. I kept pleading to you that you loved me and that I loved you, but you came back yelling 'Love you? I could never love you, you are a man and I am a man. To love you would be an insult to me. I could never love a man, especially you'. I cried, hard, but I remember that not for a moment was I crying for myself, I was crying for you, and how easily you denied your hearts wishes. For a moment I really thought it was you."

I feel ready to cry for him.

"Now, what was your dream?" he pushes.

Mine was no better, but I'm used to that, (a/n: my friend showed me something in Susan Kay's book that gave me this idea, sorry Erik lovers! But hey! I'm one too!) "It was of the gypsies. It was one day, which I relive over and over. There was one of them that always tormented me, but most of the time it was just verbally, beating me down with words. Sometimes he would use a whip, and it left scars." I had noticed the scars, but I had guessed as much. "So, one day he came in and locked the cage. The next thing I knew he had me pinned to the ground. And he raped me Raoul. I didn't even have the strength or intelligence enough to fight back; I let the bastard rape me. A few days later I killed the son of a bitch, but I will never forget that day."

I can't look at him, the pain in his eyes in unbearable.

"Come, we need to get you into dry clothes before you catch a fever.

ERIK POV

Too late.

He had already been sitting there a while and the chill of my house did nothing to help. I tuck him into the bed, laying a cool cloth over his forehead as he falls asleep.

Unfortunately what I had to tell Raoul was true, from start to end. I never told anyone about that day, not even Madame Giry. Not until now.

I then realize that I can not care for a man that is fevered, no matter how severely.

As soon as he regains consciousness for mere seconds I whisper to him, "Raoul, do not panic, I will return in moments, I must get you medicine."

I leap off to Madame Giry's room, making it to her room in less than a minute. I slam hard on the door, having come through a passage across the hall.

"Yes, yes I'm coming! What trouble must I look into now?" she growls.

Opening the door and seeing me she gasps, "Erik, what is it?"

"Raoul," I manage between breaths, "he has… fallen ill…. He is… running a very… high fever."

"Come in," she allows me in.

I follow her in, and lean against the door, still quite tired from the sprint.

"What happened?" she demands.

"He ran into the lake and then was sitting on the shore in wet cold clothes for far to long," I explain.

She grabs up a vial and moves to her mirror, "Show me."

So I lead her down, down the path, fast. We arrive to find Raoul moaning, but awake.

"Shh, Raoul," I take his hand, "I'm here now."

"Erik?" he mumbles.

"Yes, and Madame Giry as well," I point out, "We're here."

He falls backwards, onto the pillow, and lets out a long breath before falling asleep again.

Madame Giry picks up his head and tips the vial up slightly, letting Raoul drink it all.

"He'll be better now," she comments, "we just have to wait."

And so we do, long into the night and well into the next day.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

**a/n: please don't shoot me Erik lovers, or Raoul lovers. Feel free to shoot me Christine lovers, but don't forget to review before you kill me!**


	6. You're Back

a/n: thank you all:

Lilhikki : Susan Kay was so great:) Thanks for the review and I'm always open to an help you want to give!

Bastet Starwind: lol, wow, 5 reviews in one:D I'm so glad you like my work:)

Moonjava: Thank you!

inkie pinkie: lol, yeah, sickness stinks... oh well, it works out in this story!

wolfegurl006 : you know it. YOUR FAULT! you gave me the idea...

Now to the chapter:

* * *

Passing the time is difficult, but the main portion of my time is devoted to writing down my music. My poor angel has not yet woken up, and it is well past noon. I look over one more time, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he takes shallow and slightly labored breaths.

Just as I pick up page five there is a slight moan.

I spin around again to see Raoul's face, twisted in discomfort.

I rush to his side. Placing the back of my hand against his forehead I feel his temperature has dropped, but nothing drastic.

"Raoul, I'm here," I whisper, running my fingers through his hair. My angel's features relax, but they do not brighten.

Wearily he opens one eye. And then the other.

"Why are you still here?" he asks.

Taken aback my hand rests still for a moment, "Why wouldn't I be here?"

He coughs hard in response. Finally gaining control again he adds, "Have you even left my side?"

I sigh, seeing where this is going, "Only to get Madame."

"Erik," he scolds.

"I'm worried, Raoul. I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you! You're ill and it's my fault!" I insist.

"I'm fine," he pushes to sit up.

"Monsieur," Madame Giry appears at my side, "You are in no condition to be sitting up. Please, lay back down, if for no one else do it for yourself."

"… for me," I plead.

He nods. I can see the sweat forming on his face as he lowers himself back to the bed. My poor angel!

I move swiftly to my "cooler", taking out the fresh water, pouring a glass, and then returning to his side. Supporting Raoul's head, I tip the glass to allow him to sip. He does so, exhausting himself through simply swallowing.

Wiping water from his upper lip, I lean forward and place a light kiss on his cheek. His whole face seems so hollow.

I whisper softly to him, "Get some rest, Raoul."

Without an argument he lets his eyelids close and his breath visibly evens.

I turn to Madame Giry, "Well _that_ went well!"

"Erik," she places a hand gently on my arm.

"No!" I demand, shaking loose from her grip.

"Please," she tries again, "he is ill, I see that, but he is getting better!"

"Oh yes," I yell, "and that is why he can not sit up and he can barely drink. All because he is getting better."

RAOUL POV

I close my eyes, and slow my breathing, but I refuse to let myself fall asleep so fast.

An argument has started, I just wish I were not the reason it has.

"Erik," Madame Giry's voice, and it sounds close. A light hand on my shoulder confirms this, for it is far too small to be Erik's hand, "healing takes time. He will not get better after a day, but he will get better, I promise. You see he has already started."

When Erik speaks again it is a choked sob, "I'm sorry… I just want him to get better! I never should have let him get sick in the first place." His hand takes my own.

I'm here, my angel!

I squeeze his hand and he jumps slightly, "Raoul?"

I nod, "Yes, Erik, I'm awake."

"Oh, Raoul, I'm so sorry," his weight presses into my chest, his body sprawled. He manages to choke out once more, "I'm sorry."

I open my eyes to see his sad form lying across my chest, tears streaming down his cheeks, soaking the sheets below.

"Hush," I whisper, "do not weep for me."

I watch as Madame Giry leaves the room. I take this chance to gently remove Erik's mask, both hands instantly moving to his face and wiping away the tears.

"Stop worrying yourself with my health, before you get sick." I laugh lightly, "Then we'd both be sunk."

He smiles and nods, dropping his head, chuckling, then regaining his composure.

When he lifts his head he's the Erik I knew, the Erik I love, the Angel of Music, the Phantom of the Opera. My Erik, my angel, my phantom.

I feel my eyelids force themselves closed before finally drifting into a peaceful sleep.

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**a/n: yeah, i had a hard time naming this chapter, it has really only to do with that one little paragraph two from the bottom here. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	7. Surprise!

A/N: sorry for such the long wait people! I was really busy! I even have a second story up and ready to go after this one is all done, but you'll have to be patient to get to read that one...

LilHikki :Yes, Erik should stay, lol,thank you:)

inkie pinkie: and Erik shan't get sick! Thank you so much for all your support! hug

Bastet Starwind: I'm glad you like :)thank you!

Moonjava: Yes... this much worrying and you start towonder why he doesn't have ulcers... j/k. Thanks:)

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ERIK POV

It's been a week, and Raoul has finally gotten better. The past few days the worse has been a cough, and those I can handle.

Right now we are eating dinner.

It is a silent dinner, but the silence is better than any words that could be said. Across the table he glances up, and our gazes meet. Everytime this happens he makes it his job to smile. That beaming smile… that is what I think I have missed the most.

He finishes, as do I, and so I clear the table, still not trusting him enough to do much work, fearing the return of that dreadful illness. When I return to the table and pick up the remainder of my wine he smiles.

"Let's go up to the roof," he takes my free hand.

"Raoul," I set down the glass and place my hand over his, "you're still not well."

"I'm fine," he moves a hand ot cup my unmasked cheek. I lean into his hand. Guilt sets in.

"Promise me one thing first," I look him in the eyes.

"Anything," he pushes.

"Wrap up, and stay warm," his grin grows, stretching from ear to ear.

He runs into his room, or the room that has now been claimed by him, and grabs a coat, throwing it on and doing up the buttons as quick as possible. I, myself, just grab my cloak and throw it over my shoulders.

He comes sprinting out of his room, faster than he went in if such a thing is possible. He takes my hands, raises himself on his tiptoes and plants a kiss on my cheek. We start to walk out, side by side, smiling.

We reach the roof and he drags me to the furthest statue, the same one that I, long ago, yelled out a curse, aimed solely at him, the great winged gargoyle.

He lays down flat on his back, his arms behind his head and his face to the heavens, the moon making his skin look more pale then usual. I lay softly beside him and feel how truly cold the stone is.

"Raoul, this is freezing," I scold. Taking off my cloak I wrap it around us both, wrapping my arms protectivly around him, "Come here."

He closes the remaining space between us and continues to look at the stars, then looks at my face, "You never seemed so pale, not until now. Under the moonlight you appear almost to be the ghost you title yourself to be."

"I could say the same about your skin, Raoul, though I have seen it this pale, unfortunatly," I wrap my fingers of my right hand in his hair.

He burries his face in my shoulder, then looks to the sky once more, and whispers, "When I die the only thing that will ever truly matter is the point that I found my angel while I was still here."

My eyes sting with unshed tears. As one falls, he swipes it away with a kiss.

"Come on," he whispers, his lips brushing against my ears, "let's go home."

Hearing him call 'my' home 'our' home pulls at my heart, and I smile, but I am left no time to dwell upon it as he pulls my hands and leads the way back down, taking things nice and slow.

When we do finally return the most beautiful scent fills the air. I look for the source and see a trail of roses leading from near my feet all the way to my room. I follow them and what I see shocks me enough to hold the roses that I had picked up on the way.

The entire room is filled with flowers. Every inch of bare space is filled with either a black or red rose. The smell is overpowering, yet I can't get enough of it.

Raoul steps in behind me, "I've never seen your room."

The comment startles me, though it is very true. His eyes search what used to be an empty room. There are a few stray paintings covering the walls, all my own work, there are piles and piles of finished and unfinished pieces of music, and then there is the bed, which is really a more a coffin.

The room seems to glow with the sudden bursts of red filling it.

"Raoul, how…?" my voice trails, choked by tears of amazement.

"While I was still sick and you had finally been shooed off by her to sleep she told me that you were a sucker for roses. I arranged this with her," he explains. "Do you like it?"

I look at him and sigh, "I love it."

"Really?" he looks up expectantly.

"Really," I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull him to me for a deep kiss, silencing all other questions.

His eyes close automatically on cantact, and mine slowly follow.

The kiss is only borken when he softly pulls away, "Wait."

"What is it?" I take his arm.

He grins, "There's one last thing to show you."

Silently he leads the way back to his own room, where the smell also returns full force. Lying on his bed are rose petals, lightly scattered, as if by the wind.

I pull him to me, his back against my stomach.

"Raoul, we were barely gone thirty minutes," I manage to sigh out.

"I did this before we left," his hand reaches up and lightly touches my mask. I feel his fingers move further up, touch the skin right above my mask, and then move back down to peel it away. He places it carefully down on a desk to our right and then uses his own hand to mask my face, his fingers making a soft cage around my disfigured flesh, much more pleasant then the porcelain of the mask I'm used to.

Slowly his hand moves down to my neck, and then drops to his side. He makes a fast turn in my arms, forcing an arm between us, the other hand resting lightly on my shoulder and the hand that lays between us pressing hard into my chest. Feeling my heart start to race I wonder if his is doing the same.

Soundlessly, I steal his lips in a heated kiss. It seems so long since I last felt my love's smooth lips against my own, burning my skin. My tongue slips its way out of my mouth and into his, savouring the taste that has been denied so long. My hand comes up and wraps behind his head, pulling him closer and allowing my tongue more freedom to roam his mouth. His tongue meets mine and the two lock in a silent battle of passion.

A moan resonates deep in his throat.

I remove my lips from his, pulling my tongue back and causing a slight whimper to escape his lips. I start to draw a light line of kisses along his jaw line and he throws his head back, allowing me easier access to his neck. The soft, pale skin is so inviting that I start to trail the kisses there next. My hands the whole time are making quick and easy work of his jacket and shirt, pushing them off his arms before backing him toward the bed. When he finally lowers himself down the rose petals take off and drift back down, surrounding us with a pool of crimson. Taking my time with him, the kisses almost hesitantly leave his neck, over his still aparent love bite, and rest on his collar bone next. My teeth nip at the sensitive skin surrounding the bone, causing my angel to throw his head back in a cry of pleasure. My mouth moves lower, resting over his pounding ribcage. If his heart was not racing before it is now.

He makes his first move, wrapping his fingers in my hair and silently begs for more.

I keep moving at my slow, agonizing pace, letting both of our boddies beg for more. My kisses move to his stomach and his back arches as I run my tongue over his bellybutton. Muscles quiver beneath my mouth and my arousal starts to painfully push on my pants. I ignore the pain, the pleasure outdoing the pain enough to forget it easily.

"Erik," he pleads.

I raise myself on my arms and move my face to meet his, "Yes, Raoul?"

Our voices are both broken by our fast and panting breathing. He does not answer though, and instead takes the opportunity to pin me down and start to undo my shirt. His legs straddle my hips as his back hunches to lean down and place a kiss on my lips, almost tearing my shirt to shreds pulling it off.

"Now be careful, Raoul," I mock scold.

He lets his hands enter the top of my shirt, massaging my muscles as his fingers roam my skin.

Finally succeeding in removing my layers of shirts he allows me to flip him on his back once more.

I take my chance to undo his pants as his hands cross mine, doing the same for me. We both finish simultaneously and we shed ourselves of our clothes form the waist down.

Now skin on skin our hips scrape together and neither of us pull back, now unembarassed by our own wants and needs.

I feel his arms dig into my shoulders as he pins me down once more. I allow myself to be ruled again, with a feeling of knowing what he is doing. He takes some lotion and starts to aply it to my burning flesh, bringing me close to my own climax. I do not allow myself to come though.

I do the same thing for him and he bites back a cry at first contact.

I move him closer and closer until I can tell he is not far.

I then flip him down onto his stomach. Placing my hand right back to where he wants it I slowly start my rhythm. The start is rough, for we do not stay in perfect sync, but then everything falls away as our bodies scream for release. And finally release comes.

We both cry out and he collapses first, exhausted. I lay gently by his side. When he curls against me I can smell the roses on his skin, as I'm sure the scent is on mine as well, having gotten the scent from the petals that we crushed in our long denied release.

There is no need for words, as we lay together in our silent aftermath. I reach slowly around him and kiss his lips before kissing his cheek, and laying back down.

It is in this silent moment that his words from not so long ago return to me:

_There is nothing separating us now. Christine is gone, the division is gone._

And though I hate to admit it, he was right all along. Christine was our division, and now the two of us are together, and as I fall asleep that's the only thing that matters to me.

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**a/n: please review! only 3 more chapters people!**


	8. “I WAS HOME!”

A/n: Crap! It came to my attention that it seems like i stole an idea from my last chapter from Kytten, but i didn't! I really didn't mean to take the idea from another person, i thought it was original blush. Well, wanted to clear that up... (thank you inkie pinkie)

Moonjava: Thank you:)

Loser: thanks! Here's that update you wanted, btw...

Lilhikki : A good smutty... i can live with that! lol, thanks:)

inkie pinkie : again, thank you for bringing that embarrasing detail to my attention... and thank you for the kind review:)

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PHILIPPE POV

"Where is he?" I scream, speaking of my brother of course. The nerve of him sometimes! He left the meeting in a rush, before he was even dismissed, and then he does not return home for a week.

"I'm sorry, Monsieur Philippe, but no one has seen him at the Opera House," one of my servants answers.

I storm out through the door, "Then I will find him myself!"

With this I run into the stable and quickly saddle a horse, jumping on and riding off without any more interruption.

Raoul will come home, whether he wants to or not.

RAOUL POV

It is well into the morning when we wake up. Finding myself about to fall off the bed I nearly cry out before I feel my angel's arm wrap around my waist.

"You tossed and turned last night, Raoul," he whispers.

"I was dreaming," I answer, too quickly.

"Of what?" he pulls me back towards him, a little hesitant though.

I'm reluctant to answer, "I had a strange dream, almost like it were real, but I've never seen it happen before. Philippe was mad, ranting and raving about me not being home, and then he took off, headed for the Opera House. It just felt so real."

I feel his head shake, "But it couldn't be, not unless there are two of you and your other half saw it sleep walking."

I laugh, "Sounds crazy doesn't it?"

I turn around to see him smiling a half-smile, "Aren't all dreams crazy, one way or another?" He kisses my forehead and a smile spreads across my lips.

"I guess so," I answer.

He sits up and starts to get dressed as I do the same. The day seeming to move very slow we finally finish and prepare breakfast.

PHILIPPE POV

I dismount the horse and quickly move to the front door.

Bursting through them unannounced I notice the managers out front.

"Monsieur Comte!" Andre yells.

"We were not expecting you to come," Firmin bows in apology.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, Monsieurs, for I was not expecting to come either, but it seems my brother is missing, and has been for a few days, and I was hoping to find him here," I explain.

"Of course, please feel free to walk about, if you need any help finding him…" Firmin starts.

"…I'll be fine, thank you," I quickly turn down the hall, headed toward Christine's room.

Opening this door more gently I look in and find no one there, but he could be hiding anywhere. I step in and quickly shut the door behind me.

RAOUL POV

Breakfast finishes and Erik starts to shift uncomfortably, still finishing a glass of wine, which I myself had today as well.

He looks up and our eyes meet. Breaking the uneasy silence he suggests, "Why don't we go walking around the Opera House? I could show you some of the better ways to get around."

I smile, "That sounds fun."

He sets down his glass and smiles as well. Why would he be so uncomfortable? "What's wrong, Erik?" I come up beside him.

"It's nothing," he sighs.

"Erik," I push.

I place a hand on his shoulder, but he flinches out of my grasp, "Please, let's just get out of here."

"Alright," I answer, hurt by his harsh treatment.

He leads us up the path to Christine's room. Checking to see if anyone is there he stops me.

"Erik?" I whisper.

He clamps a hand down over my mouth.

Another voice answers me, "Raoul?" It's Philippe.

I shake away Erik's hand, "It's okay, it's only Philippe, my brother."

"Only Philippe?" my brother answers, "Then who are you talking to, and from where, my dear brother?"

Erik allows me to open the mirror, and while I step out he just stands in the passage entrance, "Hello, Philippe."

"Thank God, you're alright!" he rushes up to embrace me, apparently not noticing Erik.

"Of course I am," I turn to Erik, "Thanks to Monsieur Erik."

He blushes at the name 'Monsieur Erik', but gives me a death glare all the same.

PHILIPPE POV

Another person? Another man? My God! Has my brother lost his mind?

"Raoul, why did you not send word, that's the least you could have done!" I scold.

M. Erik steps back once, "I think I should take my leave."

Raoul takes a step toward him, "Erik…"

"This is not my place, viscount, this is yours, with your brother," he answers, taking another step back, "Go."

With the simple command this M. Erik closes the pathway, leaving my brother behind, dumbfounded.

"Raoul?" I place a light hand on his shoulder.

He does not answer, but simply stares at the mirror.

"Raoul!" I try again, but to no avail.

Then he presses a hand against the mirror, and whispers, "Erik, please don't go."

A voice, just as low as his had been, answers from behind the mirror, "Go now, Raoul, and do not return."

I watch as my brother keeps his hand on the mirror, then drops it to his side, his knees giving out and slamming painfully into the ground. He does not move for a long time, but then drops his head and weeps.

I come up behind him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders, "Raoul?"

In return he throws his arms around me and burries his face in my shoulder, crying. I know that the suit will be ruined, but a suit can be replaced, my brother needs me.

"Hush now, it's alright," I try to comfort him.

He shakes his head 'no', "I loved him, and I still do! I thought that those feelings were returned."

I place my hand on the back of his head, petting his hair the way you would pet a cat, "Please, Raoul, it's time for you to come home, he was right."

"I WAS HOME!" he straightens up and yells this in my face.

I stop, dead silent, my features a mask of nothing.

His tears start again, "I'm sorry, Philippe."

"It's okay," I whisper.

I offer him a handkerchief, which he gladly accepts and dries his eyes with it.

He stands up and I do as well, brushing some dust off of my outfit.

"Come," he says, "Let's go home."

I smile and the two of us make our way to call for a carriage.

ERIK POV

I did stop talking, but I never left the mirror, in the hopes that Raoul would tell his brother to leave. Though I do not blame him for not coming back to me, not after the way I treated him this morning. I hate myself for the way I am.

Turning now that they have both left parts of their conversation run through my head. One part making me feel sick to my stomach:

"_Please, Raoul, it's time for you to come home, he was right."_

_"I WAS HOME!"_

I turn and slam my fist into the closest wall, causing my knuckles to bleed. I look down at the blood, slump against the same wall and laugh. I let the blood flow freely over my knuckles and down onto the ground.

I let myself slide to the ground, and I finally let the tears fall. Had I let this happen earlier Raoul might still be here, but now I cry for two reasons, I mourn a loss, and a gain.

Today is the day, that so many years ago, I came to this Opera House, and never truly loved, until Christine. But was that really love? No, that was my heart thinking it was in love. My first and last real love would have to be Raoul. God, I'm an idiot! How could I be so blind as to not see this before?

"Oh Raoul," I moan aloud, knowing that now I can talk and no one will hear me.

Standing on shaky legs I go down to my pit of a house again, and grab the wine.

Sitting on the bench of my organ I start to play, nothing at all, nothing important, just music. Anything to rid myself of the pain. Anything to rid myself of memory.

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a/n: angsty... i know... please review!


	9. That Day

a/n: Aww man... only one more chapter after this :( Thank you to all who have reviewed, I really appreciate it! And don't worry, there is another story brewing in my mind as we speak! I know this is a faster update than normal, but i don't know when the next chapter will be up so i wanted to get this out asap.

Moonjava: Thank you! hugs

Miz Perfect: So glad you like my story! .

Lilhikki : Yes... i regret more angst indeed... but oh well. Yes mirrors need to be destroyed, especially that one! Yeah... next story Philippe doesn't take things as well... lol :)

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_RAOUL POV_

It's been three days since I left and my life has never seemed so empty. But I can never go back, not after the way he threw me out. I can never go back.

It's about noon when there is a knock on the door.

I open it up, and I am quite shocked to find Madame Giry.

"Madame, what could I do for you?" my looks more confused then my voice.

"Monsieur, I have come to tell you something that we need to discuss," she rushes.

I step aside and she enters.

She sighs, "Erik has not left his home in a very long time. He has blocked all entrances but one, the one in Christine's room. What happened, Raoul? You two seemed so happy."

I look away in disgust, "We fought, in Christine's room."

"Raoul, he's waiting for you!" she points out.

"Why should I go back to him?" I turn around, tears in my eyes.

"Because he did not know any better!" she yells.

I look at her like this is a joke, "Oh, really?"

"Raoul, the day you left was a day that means something to Erik, and he's not used to being around people on that day," she lowers her head.

"What day is it?" I tilt my head in true curiosity.

"It is the day…" she pauses, "… that I saved him. I got him away from the gypsies on that exact day."

My face freezes, no emotion possible, and my heart starts to burn with guilt. I grab my chest, trying to supress the burning guilt, but it does no good. I feel sick.

I walk outside and just in time.

I turn to the side and vomit. Dropping to my hands and knees I allow my stomch to heave the vial up through my throat, emptying itself. It splatters right off the side steps of the stairs, and I'm glad that I didn't get any on the front steps. I can't stand the feeling.

When the heaves slow I finally allow a small groan.

Once I'm sure my stomach is empty I spit a few times and stand up. I'm glad that no one has followed me out, and from what I can tell no one on the street has seen me either.

Trying to rid the taste from my mouth I spit off the side of the steps once more as Madame Giry finally comes out.

I keep my back to her as I wipe my mouth off.

When I turn to her she lowers her head, "I am sorry, Monsieur, to be the one to have to tell you that."

"It's not your fault," I shake my head, "It's mine."

She takes my hand, "Please, come back to the Opera House. He needs you, Monsieur, he misses you. The morning you left I heard music being played, and then I heard nothing, nothing for two days. That's when the passages were blocked. Please, you must come back!"

I nod, "Just let me tell my brother."

I walk past her, back into the house. Walking up to Philippe's study I find him behind a book.

"Hello, Philippe," I startle him.

"Raoul? What is wrong, you're as pale as a ghost," he rushes over.

"I must return to the Opera House," I'm very blunt.

"No," so is he.

I shake my head, "You don't understand Philippe, I must return. There will be hell to pay if I do not."

"There already is!" he yells back at me.

"I'm sorry, my brother," I hug him and I find him hugging me back.

He leans back in my embrace, "Do you love this man?"

I look him in the eyes, "Yes."

"Then go, my dear brother, but do not get hurt again," he warns.

I smile, embracing him one last time and rushing back to leave.

Madame Giry has summoned her carriage once more and I let her enter first, and then we are off to the place that I had called my home, if only for a week.

I just hope he forgives me!

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**a/n: please review!**


	10. “beautiful,”

a/n_ /tear/ it's the last chapter. /tear/ damn... i swore to myself i wouldn't cry/cries/ I'm going to miss you all... yet never fear, for there shall be a few more stories out by me soon! You shall not go without my stories!_

_Chapter 9 Review thank you:_

Loser: I hope i have not failed to comply... Thank for the review! **hug**

inkie pinkie: i am going to keep writing, i would be letting to many people down if i were to stop!** hug**

Lilhikki : yes, yes, more E/R to come, i promise you all! Isn't Philippe great sometimes? lol, thank you! **hug**

Moonjava: I'm glad you like the chapter despite the short length, and i hope you like this one as well! **hug**

_Now, throughout the story I am glad to say that to this very moment i have recieved many many reviews! I would like to acknowledge each reviewer:_

inkie pinkie

BlackAuthor

Lilhikki

Moonjava

Miz Perfect

Loser

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wolfegurl006 (who i realize has been out of town and unable to find a comp to review with T.T)

Two-Bit Wannabe

mrs.butler (no matter how... interesting the comments may be i do not hold anything against you!)

Samyo

_Thank you all! And now, to the remaining chapter, ENJOY!_

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ERIK POV

I wake up in a haze, though something specific has gotten my attention. It takes me a few seconds to realize that it was the crack of one of my traps going off.

I stumble out of my seat, knocking the three empty wine bottles off the desk, throwing them down with the five that already litter the ground.

My head throbs as I stumble my way to the trap. It was definitly the one by Christine's room, the noise came from right in that direction.

My head starts to clear halfway up and my speed increases, and I thank the gods that it did. In my trap, a Punjab Lasso that can find it's way around any intruders neck, struggling and gagging against the rope, is Raoul.

"Raoul!" I cry out, rushing to his side.

He tries to speak, but it comes out so choked I can't understand him. I try to free him, but his struggling makes holding onto the rope difficult.

"Hold still," I demand, and he does. Without his struggling the task is much easier, and the noose slips over his head with ease.

I catch him as he starts to fall to the ground, sucking in air, and rubbing his sore throat. I hold him tight to me, his shaking and shocked form seeming so fragile. I lightly lower us to the ground, where I set him in my lap and press his face gently into my neck.

"I'm sorry, Raoul. It's over now," I whisper.

He shakes his head, causing him to wince. His voice is no more than a hoarse whisper, "I should be the one appologizing. I was the one who ran off."

"That wasn't you're fault. I scared you off," I admit, for the first time in three days. "It was all my fault."

"I guess we can both blame ourselves, can't we?" he smiles. "Making us both guilty."

"If to love is a crime then so help humanity, for there is no hope left," I sigh.

He nods, "I can agree with that."

I look down to the ground as he scrambles out of my lap to get a good look at me.

He frowns, "You're drunk."

"No, not now. Now I'm in the middle of the worst hangover of my life. Not like you can say much better, you look like you're ill again," I point out.

"Sick with grief, sick with guilt," he admits.

The pain of the remark tears at my already aching heart. Not only am I guilty of nearly killing my love, but I have caused him more pain emotionally than I have physically.

"Why are you here?" I ask, seriously.

"Well, that started between my mom and my dad in the bedroom some years ago," he jokes.

I scowl, "You know what I mean."

"God, Erik, are you that blind?" maybe I am, "I loved you. I never stopped loving you either. It did not matter to me that you threw me out, my heart still longed for you. These past three days have been so terrible. When Madame Giry told me that you weren't leaving and that all but one entrance was blocked I felt sick. When she told me why you were acting the way you did then I actually did get sick. Erik, I love you, and I want you to tell me if my love is worth nothing. If it is I will personally see to it that we never encounter each other again."

I turn so that he can't see me, so that he can't see my tears, so I can keep my one shred of dignity.

RAOUL POV

He has turned away, and I can't tell if this is good or bad.

His first answer is inaudible. Even with my throat I can talk louder than he is right now.

"What?" I ask, my voice desperate and sad.

He yells the answer back at me, "_I love you, too!_" When he turns there are tears streaming down his face, "I love you. Please, don't leave me again."

He drops his head into his hands and his shoulders shake in silent sobs.

I drop down in front of him, "That's all I needed to hear, and more. I love you, Erik."

His sobs become audible and I pull him to me, as he did for me seconds ago.

Sitting on this cold stone floor there is something that is unsaid that passes between us. There is a promise made that can not be described in words. It is a promise that the heart makes when one man loves another, a promise that can never be broken, not by death, not by disease, and not by another man. This is a promise that no matter where the other is, they will always be together in the heart.

Erik's sobs slow and I start to run my fingers through his tangled and unruly hair. I whisper calming words, and then something else comes to me, and I find myself singing out loud, "Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me with you here, beside you. Anywhere you go let me go too, that all I ask of you. Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning."

He cuts in, "Say you love me."

I look into his eyes, "You know I do."

And in perfect timing we finish the song together, "Love me – that's all I ask of you."

I look at him questioningly, "How did you know that?"

He looks away, ashamed, "I was up there too. Hiding behind the statues, and I heard you two, and I saw you two."

I nod, "I guessed you were up there. Not right away, but later."

His frown grows, "Then I later ran up onto that same gargoyle that we were laying on and screamed to you, 'You will curse the day you did not do, all that the Phantom asked of you'. I'm not proud of that now, but I hated you and her so much for being able to know joy when I knew no such luxury."

I take two fingers, and lift his chin with them, gently, and look into his eyes, "I never knew what true joy was until I met you. Before that it was simply my brain going off and yelling at me that if I had loved her when we were children then I could love her more so now that we had grown. I never realized what true joy or love felt like until I met you."

There is no answer, not that there is a need for one either. He simply looks at me with such a loving gaze, and then catches my lips in the most searing kiss of my life.

His lips dance over mine, smooth and inviting. I lean into him, begging for more, and he allows his lips to part enough for his tongue to run over my lips. I gladly comply to his begging and open my mouth, his tongue instantly entering, reaching mine and then searching my mouth. I tangle his hair between my fingers pulling myself as close as possible to him. His tongue moves along my teeth and then meets mine again. This time my tongue tangles with his.

Erik's hand slips around my back and then pulls me into his lap. I continue to kiss him until we both need to pull back, out of breath and yet unwilling to give up this perfect moment together.

I let my hands fall out of his hair and rest on his chest, moving my head to his shoulder. His one hand remains on my back as his other hand starts to play with my hair. I could fall asleep like this right now, and never wake up, knowing that I fell asleep the luckiest man alive.

I nuzzle his neck, "You know, you never gave me that Opera Ghost tour that you were going to take me on."

He laughs, "I guess I didn't, did I?"

"Will you take me tomorrow?" my lips brush against his skin.

"Of course," he says, "If you still want to."

"Then it's settled," I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.

He smiles, "Then let's worry about ending today the right way. How about dinner?"

I move my head so I can look at him, "But it can't be passed two in the afternoon yet, can it?"

He smiles, mischeviously, "Yes, but you'll want to end early tonight."

I give him a questioning glance.

"You'll know when I tell you, but I won't tell you until we've eaten," so I comply.

Eating my food as fast as possible without getting sick again, we finish much faster than usual.

"Wait here," he demands, and I listen.

When he returns he's holding a stack of at least one hundred pages.

"What's that?" I ask.

He holds up the stack, "This is my latest music. There's one hundred and twelve pages."

"What's it about?" I look into his eyes, which glint at me.

"This particular piece," he kneels down by me, "I wrote for you."

"What?" I ask in disbelief. It can't be about me!

"This piece was written between the time that you left for that meeting to last night, when I finally downed the last three bottles of wine that I was using to keep me awake so I could knock myself into sleep. This whole piece was written by me, but solely inspired by you," he places the papers safetly at his side and takes my hand, "And it's finally worthy of you hearing it."

He swiftly takes a seat on the organ bench, the music on the stand in front of him. Not like he needs the music, he always memorizes his works.

I sit in a chair right behind him and listen to the music. The first section is light, happy and if it were a star it would be bright as the sun. Then it moves into a more mellow tune, a perfect tune of two keys working in perfect harmony. Slowly the music changes to a light, almost sad tune, a worried tone to it, but changing constantly between a sad and light mood. And then there's the finale, which mixes in an angry tone, along with a mourning loss in the background, and then it finishes with the four parts mixed into one beautiful frenzy. Thinking back and placing events in order the music goes from when we first met, to the first night that we spent together, to when I was sick, and finally when I left. The whole thing tears at my heart and sets my soul flying to the heavens.

He turns, expectantly.

I can only manage one word, "beautiful," before leaning forward and kissing him again.

When our lips part he looks at me, "Do you really think so?"

I nod, "Yes. It is perfect from start to end."

He glances at the clock and we both notice it is well into the night. Nothing would be more worth staying up late, than staying up late to hear that.

**MADAME GIRY POV**

I listen as the room is filled with the most beautiful music I have ever heard. I'd recognize Erik's music anywhere.

Meg's head lifts and she looks to me, "Is that him, mom?"

I nod, "It is."

"Then that would mean that Raoul is back?" I had told her the story of what was going on.

"It would appear so," I smile.

"I'm glad. He always plays the most beautiful music when Raoul is down there," I left out the important detail of the two being in love though, to save her from having to deal with that, and to save Erik from many other people knowing.

I look at her, "You're right, he does."

She looks to the mirror, "This is the happiest music he has played since she died mother, isn't it?"

After Christine died Erik never let a happy tune leave his heart, not until Raoul.

"This is," I agree.

She then settles into bed as the song ends, "I hope he makes more songs like this."

I look to the mirror as well, "So do I."

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**a/n: please review and let me know what you all think, i can not improve without you!**


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